The Nemesius People

By Carlos Wiggen

Feral children, "enfants loups", moved through southern France.

The Vagrant Volves formes armed units, "the Black Corps" protecting the white.

The children met in Spain at "Wolf's Ridge" howling through the night.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jun 11, 2021
• ISBN: 9781665588591

Carlos Wiggen

Carlos Wiggen also wrote: “Kant and the Barbarians” “Philosophy at Gunpoint” “The Nazil Grail” “The Spine of Western Culture”

Book preview

AuthorHouse™ UK

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403 USA

www.authorhouse.co.uk

Phone: UK TFN: 0800 0148641 (Toll Free inside the UK)

UK Local: 02036 956322 ([phone] from outside the UK)

© 2021 Carlos Wiggen. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 04/21/2021

ISBN: 978-1-6655-8860-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-8859-1 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Part One Filling In For God

Chapter One Igor’s Run

Chapter Two Greg, Dave And Sam

Chapter Three The Armada Of Fools

Part Two Into The Darkness

Chapter Four The White Island

Chapter Five Piece Of Cake

Part Three The Diamond And Its Shadow

Chapter Six The Codex

Chapter Seven The Aleutians

PART ONE

FILLING IN FOR GOD

CHAPTER ONE

IGOR’S RUN

In the first decade of our century a consortium headed by the Russian company Lukoil plus partners from South Korea, Malaysia and China were looking for oil and gas in the dried up Aral Sea, Uzbekistan. They discovered the remains of a barge, of the type Russian military forces had used in the late 19 century campaigns to ferry horses and artillery. There was no military equipment on it, just two meticulously packed human skeletons and a watertight metal box containing papers from someone calling himself The Holy Spirit, dated from 1869 to 1871. In these recounts, all written in Arabic, the writer had detailed his travels and findings. They also mentioned the bones found on the barge. Thus, the remains were not those of the writer, but skeletons already when he recovered them. Evidently, the writer deemed it of the highest importance to get the bones to Saint Petersburg, whence he had originally set out. The barge had probably foundered, and he had either drowned or made it to the shore.

An Arabic-speaking geologist from the Russian company, able to read the old reports, smuggled the content out of Uzbekistan and got it to Moscow. The bones, still in good condition, were sent to a laboratory for DNA analysis and carbon dating.

#

Igor Baranov increased his pace somewhat through the last part of the park leading to the Moscow Institute for Genetic Research. Although he was in his late forties, he still kept fit by doing what he enjoyed most, endurance running. Back then, his daily route through the suburban environment equaled marathon distance. Igor considered that a minimum, starting at seven in the morning in order to be ready for work at nine. That day, he happened to reach the entrance as the mail arrived. The mail carrier knew him and was happy to hand over the bundle rather than make it to the fourth floor by the stairs--that ancient elevator was probably never going to be fixed.

One of the packages was registered mail. Igor signed the receipt and, after a shower, opened it. A plastic envelope contained bone samples. A short letter detailed the find and outlined the circumstances. He sensed that he was only fed facts he needed to know in order to make the required analyses.

Apart from him, there were about five people at the institute qualified for such a job. The normal thing would be to present the letter at the morning meeting, whereupon two researchers would get to work on the samples. Now, he was still the only one present. In fact, most of the staff was on summer leave and the rest rather reluctant to show up, having to brave the sickening smog and sour smoke from a growing number of forest fires south of Moscow. He had actually had a hard time completing this morning’s run; if this continued, he would have to wear a face mask, and wind down to walking. Maybe, he would spend all day alone in the laboratory. The correct procedure would be to leave it until the next morning meeting, but that might be several days ahead and the letter, apparently from the direction of the oil exploration consortium, asked for results a.s.a.p.

Besides, the find rang a bell. Now, all he could remember was that, what-ever-it-was, dated back to when he joined the KGB science division, now replaced by the FSB, The Federal Security Bureau.

He took the samples to his workplace at the laboratory and ran a test, using a bone chip, also doing carbon dating and x-ray of the bone.

An hour later, stunned, he began writing a report.

The DNA sequence shows substances about as tough as a lobster’s armor. Weaker tissue, like the few remains of marrow, displays something like the fiber of the Baobab tree. A number of viruses the human being historically has been afflicted by, and eventually absorbed, are not present. If this is indicative of the entire organic makeup of a human being, it must have been extremely resilient and with a longevity at least double of modern human beings. It is the kind of genetic enhancement, and germ-line, that we now have at the early experimental stage. I dare say it is still decades ahead of where we hope to get.

As I refuse to believe that a UFO from an advanced outer space culture parked somewhere in the Caucasus and beefed up the humans within reach, I find myself forced to assume that crude methods, chiefly a selective diet and eugenic cross breeding, produced one or several mutations.

At that point, Igor stopped writing. His mind was racing ahead quicker than he could tap the keyboard, his thoughts taking off in a non-scientific direction. This was about as important as the Atom Bomb some seventy years ago. Who should handle this? Who should not?

He rose, folded the paper, put it in his pocket and collected the bone samples in a plastic bag that he put in a satchel he kept in his locker. Then he went into the Institute archive. One of the items in there was tissue samples and bone fragments from a male who, when he died in the Caucasus in the 1960s, was in his late 120s, the oldest man in the world at that time. Returning to the lab, Igor repeated the testing procedure, using the 1960 material. This time, he adjusted the parameters, getting results that indicated around 200 years, and extremely tough bone fabric. Then, without printing the results or shutting off the machine, he left the lab and made his way to a lounge with a TV. Having switched on the coffee machine, he got Leo, one of his colleagues, on the cell phone.

You going to make it to the Institute this morning, Leo?

Well, doing my best you know, but it is chaos here in the center. The train has not moved for an hour.

I know. Listen, I got something in the mail. That is, the Institute got it. Bone samples with a letter requesting DNA analysis and results a.s.a.p.

Everyone wants results a.s.a.p.

Right. This seems rather interesting though, and with your expertise--

I’ll do what I can to reach the Institute before lunch.

In fact, Leo showed up twenty minutes later, as Igor had assumed the compulsive liar would.

Good thing you could make it so quickly, Leo. I actually started the analysis. It is all in the lab.

And the results?

Haven’t collected them yet. Got the coffee machine running. They should be there now.

I’ll go have a look, Igor.

Leo disappeared into the lab. Igor turned on the TV news channel and sat down, having his coffee.

Half an hour later Leo came back, apparently bored.

Any coffee left?

Igor indicated the machine, killing the TV volume.

What did the results say?

God, that machinery is slow. Fifteen minutes before it was all there.

And?

Looks like an old gorilla.

Nothing more?

No. Uh--who sent it?

Some oil drilling company down by the Aral Sea, Uzbekistan.

Gorillas in Uzbekistan. Interesting from a zoology point of view, I guess.

Maybe we should notify the Zoological Museum.

Yes, Igor. I’ll handle it.

That is kind of you, Leo.

Well, I’ll get to it then, take it home with me.

Igor just nodded, in case a verbal reply would reveal the mixture of laughter and contempt he felt for that hypocrite. As the door closed behind Leo, he leaned back in his chair and looked smilingly toward the ceiling.

Lord, make him suffer. Make him suffer like a dog!

Igor knew Leo would go to Kaliningrad some days later, probably summoned by whatever person had read his verbose report--his writing was always verbose. He was probably talking to Achill. Igor could imagine the conversation:

The DNA of these skeletons--

Amazing, isn’t it? Extreme longevity.

Do you think this could be something quite different from the human organism?

The two skeletons, according to the report, are clearly human, a man and a woman. They are even closer to our species than the Neanderthals were, except for the organic substance itself.

The Bureau is pleased that you informed us so quickly and expertly. We want to make you an offer.

‘Typical’ Igor mused. At some point, Achill would get to know that Leo’s colleague (him, Igor), who had called in sick on the day of departure, was not sick, not at home, not in Moscow at all!

Igor had been an endurance runner since his teens, specializing in off road terrain. In fact, he held a couple of records that few people knew about, but in distance, not speed. A double Marathon was nothing to him then. He could run at moderate speed, light backpack, for 20 hours provided he had an ample water supply. Eight hours’ rest, one meal on combat rations, then twenty hours more. Still, aging taking its toll, he also carried doses of the anabolic steroid THG as a back up, in case the going got too rough on this one.

Unlike Leo, Igor had quite a bit of field experience from his KGB days. He also had a pet theory; when terrorists get around to launching electro-magnetic pulse devices, blowing all things electronic to oblivion, everyone will scramble for old fashioned, purely mechanic constructions like cars from the 1960s and World War II airplanes. They will be vulnerable to an enemy that has not had his electronic weapons blown out though. A runner, on the other hand, is not all that easy to stop or even to track, especially not if he puts on advanced gear he has kept insulated in Faraday cages. There is, for instance, the heat absorbing; Nano fluidic, automatically color-adjusting stealth clothing issued for Special Forces personnel. Add a long-range taser, night vision with GPS, and a body heat detector. Someone equipped like that will be the border controller’s nightmare.

Now, running due north out of Moscow, he was equipped like that.

Innocently jogging along over the years, he had come to know the entire network of control- and observation posts around the capital. Now he was heading for deserted forest paths just a few miles ahead. He kept chanting the basics to himself, like mantras.

Due north then in eight hours five degrees west. Three hundred and fifty five degrees. Go east of Saint Petersburg. Pass between Lake Ladoga and Lake Onega. Head northwest toward Hattuvaara, the easternmost village of Finland. Cross border when due east of village. 530 miles. You can do it in less than three days Igor, use THG if necessary. Pray no injuries. And, no complications, cannot waste time laying low.

Due north then in eight hours--

The forest conflagration consuming hundreds of thousands of acres and threatening to encircle Moscow, worked to his advantage. On the second day, he was approaching Lake Ladoga southeast of Saint Petersburg. All helicopters and transport planes, all personnel not essential to the region, helped extinguish, or at least reduce the inferno that was literally spreading like wildfire. Igor was still on schedule, but exhausted from the scorching heat and the carbon dioxide filled air. He had counted on cooler and maybe wet weather northward, but the terrain seemed to be bone dry and dusty, more like steppe than fertile woodland floor, all the way to the Arctic Sea. He had drinking water for the remaining five hours, but had only been able to filter and replenish one gallon from a nearly dried up brook during the last stop. His lungs felt like they were on fire. Putting on a facemask meant having to change from marathon running to a fast walk.

Out of the question. Wait with the steroids until tomorrow. Deflect attention. Talk to yourself; give us a bit of inner monologue. At least I am getting away from the wildfires. They are drawing northwest. I am running due north. Five degrees west after the lakes. Okay, forget that, too. Find a hate object. Hate drastically reduces awareness of the sensorial apparatus. Come, hate. Leo. Apparently an old gorilla, you said. Then you sent it all to the FSB, didn’t you? Seeing yourself as tremendously talented, possibly the greatest scientist alive today. The only reason I have not received the Nobel price yet is jealousy, ill faith and conspiracies among my colleagues! you said. That also gives you the right, even the moral obligation, to steal ideas and research results from others, like me, doesn’t it? Because otherwise it will all be wasted through their incompetence, won’t it?

Igor felt the pain from the exhausted muscles evaporate as he kept envisaging the self-content face of the hypocrite who had presented his memory trace theory as his own brainchild.

There was a time when Leo the Great said he despised the apparatchiks. We should do better than that, you said. We should take things to a more elevated level. Guide humanity from its prehistory into its proper history, as the Founders phrased it. We should be above bestial interests. An order of excellence, guardians of our species and the world.

And now? Can’t you hear the super-cruising little brains of those FSB officers? Give us anti-virus defenses like the bubble-shields we see in the Star Wars films. Make us hear, run and fight like wolves and panthers. Make wounds instantly self-healing, we want to be able to grow new limbs like cockroaches, crabs and lobsters, have night vision like owls and cats, making us real combaticons! Little soopercruising braiaiain with, no qualms about turning yourself into a dog for the sake of a bone. Well, Leo, when Achill and his staff have accepted you into their team, thinking highly of you and then, discover that the samples contain nothing of the sensational stuff you reported, that it all stems from the remains of a 120 year old mountain man--boy, Leo, what a comedown! What are you going to say? That your devious colleague Igor switched the evidence without you noticing it But we analyzed the remains together, you said. Where is the time window? Oh no, there is nothing you can say or do and anyway, Achill is nobody’s fool. You are fucked!

Igor made it to the Finnish border without problems of any kind, although he had to make use of the steroids on the third day. He rubbed himself with an anti-bloodhound solution disguised as sun blocker. It was effective for 48 hours. The GPS, taser and night vision equipment disappeared in a hollow under an old tree. Then he crossed the poorly marked border, heading in a southwest direction. He was walking like a normal tourist now, but still kept his stealth clothing activated, in case Finnish customs were out scouting for smugglers. If he should he be caught for some strange reason, he had a cover story worked out.

There was a ‘strange reason’ in the vicinity. Igor did not notice a curious kind of insect, like a major hornet, that slowly descended and followed about 100 feet above and behind. The popular name of the thing was robobug. Its official designation was multimode entomopter, an insect-like robot that could crawl on the ground, take off, fly, land, unload information, recharge and, continue the surveillance. It was el-powered and driven by a reciprocating chemical muscle system. It was nothing new; the prototypes appeared around 2001. This one was on loan, for experimental purposes, from NATO in collaboration with the European Union Surveillance Center, under the Science for Peace and Security program and placed near the easternmost point of the border because--who knows--maybe because extremes fascinate people. This was actually the last day of its guest appearance, one day later and Igor would have had no problems. Call it coincidental. Maybe he should have thought of something like this, and not chosen that particular point. He knew of these bugs, but assumed he would be undetectable also to such gadgets, which was why he dismissed the possibility and never turned to see if anything was tracking him.

His assumption was correct regarding the robobugs he knew of, but this was a new model. It contained a special sensor that had earned it the nickname Higgs. The designer got the idea from a popular explanation of the Higgs Boson, a micro particle hunted by scientists of the CERN nuclear research plant outside Geneva. The paper, aiming to explain what the still hypothetical particle was, compared it to a crowded room at a party. A man enters the room, informing the ones close to him of a rumor. They cluster around the informant. Then, each of them tells those next to him, who also cluster and then pass it on. The first informant also continues through the room in a straight line, making for the opposite door while continuing to inform those he or she passes. They also tend to cluster around the informant, and then turn back to their previous conversation groups. Thus, the rumor partly travels, partly spreads through the room and can be observed, or rather inferred, by the group formations and disintegrations. The people in the room represent the Higgs Field. The clustering is the Higgs Boson.

The idea behind this robobug was the following: if a moving target like a walking or running person is screened from visual as well as radar- and heat-detection systems, it might still be possible to register it by way of certain minute reactions to this presence in nature, like grass, shrubs, even birds and insects.

The sensor onboard the Higgs robobug was catching subtle bio-energetic shifts, relaying the information to the computers in the tracking center situated outside Madrid, Spain. As soon as they confirmed the presence of something moving in a straight line, at an even speed, something not human, animal or bird by the orbiting surveillance telescopes, the bug received an order to track it. The rest was a piece of cake.

Half a dozen camouflaged and armed Finnish customs officers rose in a semi circle around Igor, their laser-guided rifles aiming straight at his chest. His stealth clothing still made him hard to detect but walking upright, outlined by the low afternoon sun, there was nothing he could do.

Visibly disappointed with the fact that the suspect was alone, carried no kind of contraband in his satchel, clothes or strapped to his body, the Russian-speaking officer in charge made for the interrogation room with the original report and printout of the first interview in his hand. Igor, sipping coffee from a paper cup, nodded smilingly to him like an old acquaintance, apparently ignorant of the gravity of the situation. The officer looked back at him, morose.

So, you maintain that you have been walking around 300 miles down from Archangelsk and are en route to Helsinki.

Yes, Sir. Needed some peace and quiet to think about a problem, I think best during long walks.

What kind of problem?

Mathematical. I am attached to the University of Archangelsk, you see, and as I have friends in Helsinki--I have a general entry visa, and was trying to find a border patrol to report to.

That why you made yourself invisible?

Testing the new gear. Apparently it is not good enough, since you found me so easily.

Then, you planned to strip naked as soon as you spotted a patrol.

No, no, you switch the jacket on and off or you choose a color. I could suddenly appear right in front of you in signal red, if I wanted to. American make, actually. Designed for ornithologists. Impressive, huh?

I have heard of it. So, what are your plans exactly, professor Saskachevanowich?

Just call me Sasha. I have friends in Helsinki, as I said. Would it be possible to hitch a ride with you?

"I’m afraid you will have to, professor. We do not have the proper equipment for scanning your body here. You will have to stay